


Bleak Houses

by melanie1982



Category: Bleak House - Fandom
Genre: Dickens, F/F, F/M, Feels, Love, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, bdsm trigger warning, queer, whattheDickens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: I love the 2005 television adaptation of "Bleak House." There were, however, a few loose ends left at its conclusion, which I shall try to remedy here.Fiction. I own nothing. I make no money from this work.Still in progress. I don't know how I managed to accidentally post the first chapter, but there it is.
Relationships: Ada Carstone/Esther Summerson/Allan Woodcourt, George Rouncewell/Phil Squod, John Jarndyce/Harold Skimpole





	1. Settling Accounts

It had been a full year since the glorious wedding of Allan Woodcourt and Esther Summerson. In that year, Esther had experienced more contentment than she would've thought possible, as well as a feeling of being.. settled - established - after a long, tumultuous journey filled with secrets and various forms of grief.

To have a name at last, one of her own choosing, and which bore no stain of illegitimacy or tense legal battles over inheritance, etc, was wonderfully freeing. Very few, if any, of the locals had ever heard of the Dedlocks, despite Chesney Wold being only around forty kilometres away from the new Bleak House, and it meant that Esther had entered an entirely different world, one which she and her husband could construct and control together. 

Allan loved her dearly, and they were very happy. Still, there were times when Esther found her mind drifting back to the days of her maidenhood, when she had served as the guardian and bosom confidante of Ada Carstone, nee Claire. Esther had never known a more kind and generous woman, so full of joy and innocence, even after all the disappointment and loss she had endured. Yes; while several of the locals smiled and nodded in passing, Esther realized she did not have any true friends at Bleak House.

With so many reasons to be grateful, Esther tried to push aside her longing for female companionship. Despite her best efforts, her husband noticed her melancholy, and set about seeking a remedy.

\--------------

"Ada! I've missed you so."

Esther was wonderfully surprised at her friend's sudden arrival, which, she quickly ascertained, was not 'sudden,' but engineered by the benevolent machinations of one Allan Woodcourt. 

Esther was happy to see that Ada had brought multiple pieces of luggage, indicating a lengthy stay. A small, selfish part of Mrs. Woodcourt's mind wished that her friend would remain indefinitely, but she soon quelled that desire, returning to her natural, unselfish state.

Moments later, young Mr. Carstone entered Bleak House, and Esther felt a jolt of surprise; he had been an infant in swaddling clothes the last time she had seen him. Allan commenced reintroducing himself, while the two women took the air, letting Ada decompress after her long journey.

"How have you been, Ada? I mean, truly."

Her friend contemplated the question for a moment. "As well as could be hoped, given the circumstances. Richard is such a kind, sweet soul, and, so far, does not exhibit the same.. impulsivity as his namesake." 

It was a warm day, beautiful in all regards, and the two women shared a smile at the memory of the departed. Yes, there had been happy times in his presence, and there would, and should, be happy times in his absence as well.

"What about you, Ada? How have you been keeping? I know Mr. Jarndyce - John - provides for you and Richard financially, but there's so much more to life than material comforts."

Ada blushed; she knew that her friend was being delicate, but the topic was a prickly one, efforts not withstanding. "I haven't had the heart to look for .. well, I know it sounds foolish, Esther, but I can't imagine myself.. with another."

They had walked to the grove of trees on the eastern edge of the property, the place where the welcome offer of shade had lured them. Esther draped her shawl over the grass, sparing their dresses, and the two companions sat gracefully beneath the ancient bowers.

Esther waited in easy, patient silence, and Ada did not disappoint. "There have been suitors, of course. Such a strange concept, for hopeful men to approach via letters to Mr. Jarndyce, asking after me, or to finagle their way into Mrs. Rouncewell's good graces at social events. I never had to worry with Richard, never had to think about it much; it was so easy, so .. natural. We were friends first of all, Esther, and love simply grew from there."

Esther nodded, sympathetic. "Fondness is a wonderful fruit of companionship, yes." She could not help but think back to Mr. Jarndyce, and how her affectionate regard for him had nearly led her into what would have been, if not an unhappy marriage, certainly an inferior one.

She went on. "Yes. Friendship, I believe, would be the best hope of a happy match, Ada. There must be someone, somewhere, who would be suited to you, and who would accept your son with the level of care he deserves."

Ada smiled, though it was weak and watery. "If it never happens, I shall be content. Being here, with friends, is more than many could ever hope for, and I'm so glad, Esther."

The elder knew that friendship was a very fine blessing, but it was not, for most, adequate enough. A deeper sort of connection, soul to soul, including the physical, was - 

"And how about *you*? You are forever focusing on others, and never place yourself at the forefront of conversation. Are you content here, Esther?"

Mrs. Woodcourt beamed, blushing. "Allan is everything one could wish in a husband and friend. More than everything."

Ada glanced slyly at Esther's waist, which had not expanded in the least since her nuptials. "And have you any.. news? Anything to report?"

Esther, noticing the direction of her gaze, blushed more deeply, and it was most becoming. "Ada!"

"What? We're hardly maidens; is it not proper for experienced women to speak of such things in confidence?" She made a show of glancing about them, as if ensuring there were no eavesdropping men or virgin interlopers in the vicinity.

"N-n-nothing to .. report," Esther managed finally, though she wasn't cross, truly - only flustered.

"Well, no doubt there is much pleasure in the attempt, Esther."

To that, Mrs. Woodcourt could only hide her face in her hands, stifling nervous laughter.

\----------------------------------

By the second week of Ada and Richard's stay, the house had adapted to its new, slightly altered routine. Co-existence felt as natural and as free as during their time at the first Bleak House, only now they were all adults, and understood one another in hard-won ways. There were few secrets between them, although, of course, there will always be *some* hidden elements at play between any two or more people.

Young Richard was, as Ada had claimed, a kind, sweet soul, and Allan in particular relished in lavishing attention upon him. Richard seemed taken as well, never having known his father, and only having spent time with Mr. Jarndyce and, to a lesser extent, George Rouncewell; beyond those two, his world had been the world of women.

"Allan adores him," Esther remarked as the women sat in the garden taking tea, while Allan helped the youngster expend some of his boundless energy. 

"Yes - and I believe the sentiment is returned in equal measure. He's always been a good boy, but quiet; here, he seems to be finding himself, talking more, taking more chances.."

Ada had trailed off, a wistful gaze overtaking her visage.

"What is it, Ada? Are you well?"

"I'm fine. It's just.. I see your husband, wanting to nurture a child, and I see myself, wishing for.. for what the two of you share. I didn't realize before my visit, just how much it.. it mattered. I had always felt that to picture myself with someone new would be to betray Richard, his love for me."

Esther turned very serious, almost motherly. "Ada." Here, she clasped both of her friend's hands between her own. "Richard would want what's best for you, and for his son. If that means living at Bleak House for the rest of your lives, then he would wish it - but if it means finding love again.."

Ada let a few tears loose, silently - 

" - then he would wish it. You haven't wronged him; the only way you could ever betray him would be if you chose to be miserable when given the opportunity to be happy."

"Oh, Esther - I am happy here. I haven't felt so at home since.. well.. You and Allan mean the world to me. This place feels like a house of hope; there are no painful memories here, unlike - "

"Then stay as long as you like. I - *we* - insist upon it. It does you good, Ada, to be among friends, and to take the air, to have someone looking after you."

"I can't stay forever, if I am to find love," she pointed out with practicality. "No one will call on me here."

Esther considered this. "Let me have a word with my husband. I know he has unattached friends; we'll start there."

Ada agreed, meekly.

After a few moments of quiet, the two resumed their tea, and conversation swung to lighter topics.

\--------------

It was not like before. Richard had been young, eager, yet inexperienced, and Ada had been a complete innocent herself - although, for a case of the blind leading the blind, the pair of them had managed remarkably well. Things gradually improved somewhat with practice, but Ada still felt largely untried; a brief marriage to her first love hardly made her an expert, and her ripened body longed for human touch. 

\------------------------

"It's such an .. unusual concept," Ada said haltingly, hoping that her words and tone were neutral, rather than shaming. 

Allan smiled. "Actually, it's a fairly common arrangement in the east. Women there are often married to men who already have wives."

Ada blinked, once, twice. "The east, as in, the Orient?"

Esther blushed, patting her husband's hand, prompting him to go on. "Well, naturally - as well as France; there's a fair bit of it to be found there, too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarndyce and Skimpole.
> 
> Hmmm.

"Jarndyce, old boy, I must be more of a simpleton than I thought, letting you talk me into this."

Skimpole said this with a pleasant tone, belying the creeping dread overtaking his person. He fought down a sense of rising panic, briefly testing the restraints before giving up, knowing that to struggle in Jarndyce's web would only entangle him all the more.

It had been posited to him as a game, or perhaps a dare; someway, somehow, Jarndyce had gotten the better of him. Oh, Skimpole, how *did* you get into this predicament, and how would you get out of it?

John Jarndyce walked circumspectly, taking in the sight of his companion sans vetements, noting the slight dip of the man's lower back, the curve of his well-formed (and well-fed) hindquarters, the surprising firmness of the thighs - 

"Of course, Skimpole. You, as you've said on occasions innumerable, are but a child - and what does a child know of such things?"

Harold Skimpole had had occasion to annoy, perturb, even enrage, a good many people, and many of those offended parties had breathed threats and nonsense against him - but this was the first time, even counting the night which he had almost been hauled off to debtors' prison, that he had felt genuine fear.

Then again, as Jarndyce caressed his bare back with the butter-soft surface of a well-worn belt, the merest whisper of contact heavy-laden with promise, Skimpole reasoned that perhaps it wasn't *just* fear that he was feeling.

He should have been cold - the old house was draughty - but instead, he felt strangely heated, though that would not be apparent to an onlooker, deceived by his slight shivering.

Hadn't the two of them danced around this for years, all of their poison spats and half-formed reconciliations leading up to just such a moment?

"Skimpole, you have been my guest now more times than I care to count, and, throughout the course of our acquaintance, you have cost me much. Food, for a start; lodging, of course - and that is to say nothing of the many, many loans of clothing, money and various sundries. In that same span of time, you have also caused me embarrassment, pain, frustration, even anger.."

The belt whished through the air one foot to Skimpole's left, creating a slight breeze. Skimpole instinctively straightened, wishing to avoid the leather's sting - and yet..

And yet.

"Now, I am a man of considerable means, and, I believe, patience - but the winds are rising in the east, Skimpole, and I'm afraid that your account has finally come due. Wouldn't you agree?"

Skimpole choked on a cry as the world went dark, realizing belatedly that his host had managed to secure a blindfold over his eyes in one swift, fluid motion.

The tip of the belt dangled precariously into the split of Skimpole's nether-cheeks, and he whimpered. "Account.. come due?"

"Indeed. Now, as you have no means of supporting yourself in any meaningful way, and as any material possessions in your keeping are most likely mine or some other hapless soul's, I find there is only one just and amenable form of payment."

"P-p-payment?" Skimpole was thrilled - and horrified. Mostly thrilled, if the six inches of bobbing turgidity between his thighs was any indication.

"Payment. What I propose is, I realize, rather unconventional, but it is my best and only offer: either you pay me now, or you leave this place in disgrace, indebted forever, and never return."

Never return? No more to see that dear face, which, even now, Skimpole could picture with a portraitist's clarity from beneath the blindfold? Never again to dine with Jarndyce, to sample his wine, to have a turn about the room as the merriment set in? Unthinkable. What would he do to support himself without this man, his oldest, dearest, and richest friend? 

No. No, indeed; whatever game or scenario Jarndyce had devised, it could not possibly be more intolerable than being eternally banished from his presence.

Skimpole would do many novel and shocking things that day, and a good many days afterwards - but perhaps none so shocking as what he did next: admitting responsibility for his own circumstances.

Opening his mouth, Skimpole managed to squeak out: "I.. agree. I .. I must.. pay."

At those words, Jarndyce ceased his predatory prowling, and for several long, terrible moments, all the world was silent. Skimpole wondered whether he had been abandoned, left naked and bound to be discovered by some poor member of the housekeeping staff - until a curious whistling sound filled the air, followed by a sharp sting across his - 

"Oh!!!"

The pain soon gave way to a burning, tingling pleasure, reverberating through his buttocks and making its way round to the equally-aching apex of his manhood.

Jarndyce examined the belt, feeling the heat of his friend still vibrating on its surface. Yes, he had chosen his instrument well. "Good good," was all the reply given, as Skimpole braced for another blow, and Jarndyce raised his arm to bring down the percussive sting of welcome recompense.


End file.
